Amazon.co.uk Review
Meet Jane Goodall--though not the scientist who has so beautifully revealed that apes have as much capacity for love and tragedy as do their human relatives. Jane Goodall, the 30-year-old narrator of Laura Zigman's fresh and funny first novel, has a revelation of her own: that the human male has as much capacity for love and constancy as an animal with rather distant DNA--the bull. Her discovery is the result of a botched relationship with a fellow PBS executive, the charming but increasingly evasive Ray Brown. Ray doesn't so much leave Jane as slip away, leaving her in depressed confusion and him having it both ways. Jane's bitter but hilarious revelation eventually transforms her from a fast-talking talk-show booker with a giant Rolodex (and an endless fund of excuses for failing to reach Kevin Costner) by day into "Dr Marie Goodall, delusional fraudulent obsessive monkey scientist by night". In one of
Animal Husbandry's many delightful (and clever) twists, the false Dr Goodall achieves a high profile and a
New York Times rebuff once her article is published in
Men's Times. Zigman has clearly spent some time researching human mating behaviour, which her heroine is forced to see as a dance of male deception and female hope. If one occasionally wonders whether
Animal Husbandry has its origins in revenge, no matter. It's an artful, sparky one.
Review
The old "let's just be friends" routine breaks a TV talk-show talent scout's heart, but when opportunity knocks, she recovers enough to assume the infinitely more satisfying role of masked avenger: a wisecracking and wonderful romantic comedy, a first from ex-New York book publicist Zigman. With a name like Jane Goodall, interest in animal behavior might seem preordained, but this Jane's life is taken up entirely with booking A-list guests for the hot, new late-night show on public television. Taken up, that is, until the show's producer comes along, with his washboard stomach and tales of woe about his man-hating vegetarian fiancee - and until Jane finds herself hopelessly in love. For a while the attraction seems mutual, but soon after suggesting to Jane that they live together, and just after she's given up her apartment, Washboard Ray goes to ground, and nothing she can do will flush him back into communication with her. The despair of the jilted casts its usual pall over her life, but her new living arrangement, a share with the show's leading Lothario, awakens her scientific curiosity, and she begins to study the behavior of her apartment-mate with an eye toward understanding male-mating imperatives. Voracious reading and lonely hours pondering give her the answer, the New-Cow theory: A bull mates eagerly with a new cow, but then refuses to do so the second time around - only a new cow will do. Jane deepens her investigation in the spirit of pure empiricism, but when there's a chance to go public, very public, with her findings, washboard memories and a crusader's zeal fire her up with spectacular results. Zinging alone with deadeye depictions of men on the make as accurate as smart bombs, this is a riot to read - and also happens to make a great deal of sense. (Kirkus Reviews)